Wrath Of Helghan
by Jonas Grant
Summary: Helghan has fallen, but the Helghast Empire is not dead yet. One ship carries on the Helghast dream, Visari's last gambit, Visari's Legacy. (One of the first stories I wrote, should give everyone a good idea of how far I've gone.)
1. For The Emperor!

**A/N: I know my character appears Mary Sueish, I know you don't agree with his views and I know most people out there root for the Imperium. **

**I know all that and I don't give a damn.**

** Capture Troopers and Shock Troopers recieved an augment to make them faster, Heavies and Supreme Trooper are genetically enhanced to be bigger and stronger, Helghast Bodyarmor is equal to Imperial Guard's Flak armor, Petrusite Based weapons are the shit, on par with Plasma, Force Recon is the name of Radec's Elite Forces and you'll see the rest by yourself, now, if you have a problem with that, or the Imperium not being ridiculously overpowered in this one fic for the sake of credibility and story telling, don't bother telling me how "Wank my wank fic is". I'm here to tell a story, if you don't wanna hear it, I'm not forcing anyone, I,m not even being paid for it! **

**If you think I should change something, you are welcome, but stay polite, please.**

I pull my chin above the pipe for the eight time when the door to my cell opens.

"Major Sand, sir!" Snaps a muffled voice behind me.

The guy must be standing at attention, since I finish my tractions without hearing a sound.

Once it's done, I drop to the ground and turn to face the soldier.

His red optics are staring right at me, cold, machine like, yet burning with the fury of our people.

"Speak, soldier." I order.

I'm a prisoner, yet I still get to order my guards around. Life can be weird.

"The Admiral wishes to speak to..."

"Like I give a fuck," I scoff, putting on my t-shirt and slipping my rebreather over my mouth, before giving the private a hard look "get out of my face, boy scout!" I don't like wearing goggles with my mask just for that reason, I got blue eyes that glow very slightly because of high petrusite levels in my blood, so I don't need the optics to freeze someone's blood in their veins.

The guy doesn't even flinch. Good; Helghast don't flinch.

"Sir, he said it was urgent; that there was a 'malfunction of some kind with the device.'"

The device? I'm a pilot and a commando, why the fuck would he ask my… Aw shit! They used that Stahl Arms hyper-cheap crap! I told them it would fuck up in their face!

Well, we're still alive, so it obviously didn't fuck up as much as I thought it would.

"Alright, soldier," I sigh, "lead the way."

He makes a by the book, parade worthy 180 degrees spin and walk off in the corridor.

I snort and follow.

All the cells we pass are unoccupied; most crimes are punished by death on this ship, so the brig is pretty much empty. Well, except for JADE, an ISA Shadow Marshall I captured back when I was a 'capture trooper'. Actually, I make it sound glorious, but she was heading for exfil, convinced no one could follow and I jumped her at the last second.

Just that little extra speed and stamina my physiology gives me made all the difference.

I, myself, wasn't in jail because I committed a crime, but because I shot a general down on Helghan; traitor was feeding ISA info about Visari. The Colonel couldn't execute me, I'm the best Shock Trooper he's got and definitely the best sniper in this whole damn army, but shooting a general when you're a lieutenant has to be punished somehow, otherwise everyone would.

He promoted me by four ranks and threw me in jail for a week without food.

Hey, if it makes him feel better about himself!

I pass JADE's cell and we exchange a couple of insults.

"Am I finally getting rid of your ugly ass?" She laughs, expectantly. I can't see her, since the lights of her cell are broken. She broke them.

"You're not really a beauty queen either, darling. Ever wonder how comes you're the only female on this ship and no one raped you yet?"

"Too scared 'bout having your dicks cut off?" She suggests, earning a choked laugh.

"Whatever you've got is bad enough amputation is the only cure?"

"Fuck you Nate." Nate… I like when she calls me that… Anyone else would have gotten their throat ripped out, but, somehow, her accent or the way she says it allow that Vektan to get away with it.

"In your dreams, bitch."

She'd answer, but I'm already gone, so she just lets out a frustrated yelp.

We pass a doorway and I get the feeling the soldier wants to say something.

"Be very careful of what you are about to say, lad, I know of over seventy ways to kill you while using my bare hands, your helmet and a toe nail… YOUR toe nail."

He shuts up. Smart move.

As we walk trough the Helghast Heavy Battleship's corridors, I try to assess the situation.

Pieces from seventy-three cruisers form the Legacy of Visari, a huge battleship equipped with cutting edge tech and quite a bit of captured ISA gear. Our only goal is to carry on the Helghast culture should Helghan fall. We were given all the technology Visari could spare, over one point five million ground troops and just as many civilians so we could colonize another planet and, some day, take back what is rightfully ours.

My role in that is pretty small, I'm one General Vasiliev's field commanders. Well, since I killed general Vasiliev, I'm not sure who's in charge of the ground troops anymore, but I know Admiral Salvor is in charge of the Legacy and now he wants to see me about the Hyperdrive acting up on him…

I'm no scientist, and I only pilot Jetpacks, so he most probably has some combat op for me to conduct, which means we ended somewhere either inhabited or unfriendly-looking.

This is gonna be good.

000000000000000

"This is Colonel Ivan Warrick of the Imperial Guard to unknown ship, you are trespassing in…"

I look around the bridge; the Admiral is sitting on his command chair, in the middle of the cramped room, techies are typing away like machines on large computers along the walls and Colonel Svert, Vasiliev's former second in command, is standing behind the Admiral, hands in his back.

Svert is wearing a General's uniform.

"Colonel Sand." He greets me, his smirk audible beneath his mask.

Colonel? All these years spent doing Radec's errands and all I had to do to receive a five ranks promotion was to shoot a General.

If only I'd known.

"General… I thought Colonel Radec would be given the lead on this one…"

The admiral stands and put his hand on my shoulder.

"Sorry Sand." Is all he says before returning to his seat. "General, brief him."

Svert nods and turns to me, his sharp, dry voice explaining to me that we just arrived in a yet unexplored area of space and that we have absolutely no clue what is going on.

I will lead a 'Diplomatic Task Force' to aid the Imperials, whoever they are, against a large alien force that seems to be besieging one of their biggest cities. I'll be commanding a full Heavy squad, an armored division, two infantry battalions with support units and an air support squadron formed of eight ATACs, four Overlord dropships and twenty Jetpack troopers. Almost as much as Radec had under his command for the defense of Visari's palace.

"Why?" I begin when he asks me if I have any questions. "Shouldn't we wait until we know both parties of the fight before we choose sides?"

Seems like common sense to me that, as long as we don't know the whole story, we'd better just sit tight and wait.

"No, we saw what the opposing forces look like. The Helghast do not ally themselves with beasts, we'd much prefer fighting alongside Vektans."

That was a… Very tactical reason, I suppose…

"Shouldn't we contact the imperials, let them know we're on our way?"

The admiral scoffs.

"We tried; their comm. Equipment is not advanced enough to pick up our transmission, it seems."

I nod. "No further questions. Sirs, if you'll excuse me, I have to get geared up…"

"Yes, you do." The admiral says from his chair, his voice oddly playful, "Your new gear is in the B5 armory, second locker. Get suited up and join your troops in hangar Bay six, we'll drop in atmosphere long enough to deploy your combat barge and then you'll be on your own, whether or not we'll ally with the Imperial Guard is completely up to you. Don't screw this up and don't stick us with another ISA either. Dismissed."

I snap a salute and leave the room before bumping in the soldier that escorted me there. Looks like he's expecting to be ordered to bring me back to my cell or something.

"Excuse me, Major." He apologizes before stepping aside, ready to escort me.

"It's Colonel, soldier, and you can return to you squad, you are no longer needed here."

He hesitates, but knows better than to question my orders and finally nods.

"Affirmative, sir, reporting back to squad."

Good boy. I turn right in an unlit hallway while he goes left, to the elevators.

After bumping in a pipe for the fifth time, I start wishing I'd wear my goggles; night vision wouldn't hurt right now.

That's the thing with Helghast ship; we wear NVGs all the time, we don't need lights, at least, not when we're on duty, so when one burns out in the military part of the Legacy, no one notices or care… Except me.

I finally find my way to the armory… After testing the reliability of half the Legacy's piping.

The door hisses open and I am welcomed by dim black lights.

Am I really the only one on this ship who prefers using his true eyes?

"Yeah, you are. But then again, I'd show 'em off too if I had eyes like that."

The voice is female, muffled by a rebreather, and comes from a workbench in the corner of the room.

Being a sniper, I know exactly what she's doing; I do the same at least once a week.

You see, snipers don't wear body armor and are poorly trained in firefights - I'm an exception since I'm actually a shock trooper- so they use active camo to avoid trouble, no thermal, no visual, no radar, they're ghosts… Even to themselves.

That's all neat when you need to hide, but when you need to perform maintenance or to reload while cloaked, you gotta learn how to do it blind and without a sound, so snipers often take their gun apart and back together while cloaked; some even spend all their free time doing it.

Well, all their free time they don't spend shooting, sparing or working out.

They're Helghast, after all.

The sniper finishes assembling her rifle and uncloaks, revealing her Force Recon beret and badges.

I used to be Force Recon; a combine shock-stealth-Black ops unit of the Helghast Army. A lot like the ISA Shadow Marshals. Real hard-asses created and handpicked by Radec himself…

"You're the new CO, sir?" The sniper asks while locking a clip in her VC32 rifle.

I nod and look around for the lockers. They're next to the firing lanes, right ahead of me.

"First Lieutenant Nalia Kovachin at your service, sir." She introduces herself. "I've been affected as your second in command."

What! No one affects me a second, I choose them! Who does the general think he is! He… Wait… Kovachin?

"First Sergeant Kovachin? That you?"I breath, bemused. She removes her mask and give my face a closer look. Quite a feat from five meters away, but she IS a sniper…

"Holy shit! I knew I'd met you somewhere! Cadet Nataniel Sand! The shittiest shot I've seen in seven years at the academy… Yet you made Colonel! Nice job, lad! You're like, what? Twenty-eight?

"Twenty-four." I correct, feeling like I'm back in boot camp.

Sergeant Kovachin was never a bitch; she was hard, but fair and always had a playful demeanor, even when chewing your ass.

'You couldn't hit the broad side of a barn unless I told you not to! Seriously! Who manages to shoot themselves with mounted weaponry? You know what? When you get in the field, DO NOT try to kill the enemy, 'kay? You'll achieve better results that way…'

"You made Colonel at twenty-four! Fuck! I'm forty-five and I barely got to Lieutenant!"

"Jealous?" I tease while opening my locker. She scoff and take her gun apart in eighteen seconds flat.

"I trained you, remember? I'm more flattered than anything." She puts her mask back on. "Plus, it's not like we're actually being paid, right?"

Right… We're not paid, but god damn do the Helghast know how to reward efforts!

In my locker is an armor damn near identical to the one Radec used to wear, except it's completely black, even the cape, and has a gray-black beret sewed on the helmet instead of a colonel's cap.

It has Colonel's tag on it, however.

I slip on the dress uniform fairly quickly, but the armor's got so many straps and buckles I need Kovachin to help me put it on. It's light but incredibly strong -so much it is rumored to be indestructible- and has the same texture as an eggshell.

I then pick up a VC5 Ark Rifle and StA18 pistol, earning an amused look from the Lieutenant.

"You forgot to tell them you're a sniper or…"

I smile but do not comment.

Today, wearing that uniform, it must be the second proudest day in my whole damn life. The first being when I caught JADE…

Being a colonel… It's different. You get to screw around when you're an LT or a Sergeant, you can fuck up here and there, it's no big deal. As a Colonel, you command a whole force; everyone is looking at you and if you fail, hundreds of boys get killed.

Calm. Always be calm, polite and ice cold. Don't let failure or death get to you, always act as if it was part of your plan. That's what Radec did, so I'll give it a shot.

"Alright, Lieutenant, would you care to go inspect the troops while I plan the details of our operation?"

"Of course, Colonel!" She salutes and leave while I start typing on my wrist mounted tactical interface, reviewing maps, force projections and tactical evaluations.

Fuckin' son of a Vektan whore…

The aliens all have weapons on par with an LMG, but use them like they were handguns! On the plus side, they don't have any sort of armor…

Altough, given their size, it's not like they'd need one…

Heavy weapons. I'll need loads of heavy stuff…

I tune my communicator on the Quartermasters department's frequency and ask them if they already delivered the Battlegroup's equipment.

"In hangar six, Colonel?"

"Yes."

"Negative, Colonel, we're waiting for the last hours, in case you or the general wants to change something… You want to change something, sir?"

When I do tell him what I want, I can pretty much _hear_ his face fall.

StA-62 Miniguns, W.A.S.P. Launchers, couple of arc rifles and cannons prototypes, M224-A3 anti-tank/infantry weapons, Pnv-3 Siska Cannons, StA52 LAR variant, Stova LMGs, M327 MGLs and a shitload of BP-02 Grenade pistols.

"You got all that, soldier?"

No answer. I think I just broke his brain…

"Soldier?"

"Yes, sir. I just sent your request to the Admiral, he says… He says 'Now that's what I call diplomacy.' I suppose he agrees."

Poor guy sounds confused as hell.

I make my way to the hangar.

00000000000

I stand on top of the barge's loading ramp, sweat dripping from my brow under my mask.

Show time. Let's get this over with.

"Men, today is an important day in our nation's history!" I yell to the three thousands Helghast soldiers assembled in the hanger, in perfect military formation, "We are meeting with a new culture, another race we never encountered before. This is going to ask a lot of you, for all our life, we have been told to despise those who do not resemble us, to see them as enemy.

Today, you will put these teachings aside and fight for the glory of Helghan.

For the first time in our nation's history, we are not alone in the fight; let us show our gratitude to our new potential allies… And show the full extent of our wrath to the alien scum who dare oppose us! For they are the enemy now!

They are the threat to your people!

They are enemies of Helghan!

Show them no mercy!" A wave of 'For Helghan!' erupts as I roar the last part, to cover the cheers:

As a great man once said 'Strike, without worry, and without mercy! Fighting as one hand, one hearth, one soul! We will shatter their dream and haunt their nightmares! Drenching this new world with their blood! And as their last breath tears at their lungs, as we rise from the cold darkness of space… They will curse, for generations, the day they faced the sons and daughters of Helghan! Challenged Visari's people!"

Might as well cut the speech here, they're not listening anymore.

"Alright, gents, get in that rust bucket and gear up, I had real Helghast toys delivered for you, split the extra gear and ammo on the way and be sure you use all of it to the fullest."

They all march in the barge, which is really just that, a large, ferry-like space ship filled to the brim with troops, vehicles and gear. It usually serves as a forward base to the invading force too…

Damn shame the third army didn't use them, we'd be taking our vacations on the beaches of Vekta right now if they had.

As the first heavy weapons crate is opened, the 'perfect killing machines' attitude is replaced by 'ten years old in a toy shop'.

An Elite Shock Trooper salutes me, an Arc Rifle in the other hand, and declares, in a very formal tone.

"I think I love you, sir!"

And then walk away. I exchange a glance with an Heavy that was eyeing a Siska.

"Sorry, boss, but no." He declares in an hesitant tone.

I laugh and head for an heavy tank with the firm intention of making it my command vehicle.

Kovachin intercepts me halfway trough and points me to a re-painted Exo suit.

"Got tactical interface, radar uplink, secure communication channels and one heck of a badass look." She explains as we squeeze trough eager troops, crates and vehicles. "The General wants to see how it does as a mobile command post."

I'm starting to understand the whole point of this… I'm not sure I like it though.

I walk to the exo and jump in, trying to get familiar with the operation of the advanced piece of equipment.

I stop trying when one push too much rams the thing in a tank.

"You getting the hang of it, Colonel?"

"How about you scrub that window and see if you get the hang of it, Leftenant?"

She thinks I'm joking. I'm not.


	2. Battlefield Diplomacy

**A/N:Okay, I'd like to mention, I'm no WH 40k expert, I wrote this as a special request from a friend and the result of a vote I did on a few sites (I had one vote, that's just how awesome I am _) But I need to mention just how Fucking advanced Helghast are, despite their apparent low tech.**

**First off, they are faster, stronger, more resilient and overall bigger that regular human; a bit like mini-Astartes ^^' their weapons, when compared to the imperium's, seems to be close to comparing a modern sporting crossbow to a musquet. They rely on ancient technology, but it's devellopped to it's extrem limit, while the imperium uses supperior tech, but in a sub-optimal way... **

**Then, I need to make a note that will probably be mentionned soon in the story, but it was supposed to be obvious _ The Helghast on the Visari's Legacy are all completely loyal to Visari, they believed every word he said (Even the lies) and deeply believe in his doctrins. Altough they are still Helghast and won't hesitate to use inhuman means to reach their objectives, they are a lot less 'evil' than the Helghast under Visari, since there is virtually no corruption amongst their ranks. They are Visari's dream at its finest, which might be a strenght and a weakness...**

**Heavy vs Astarte... I have no idea what the outcome would be... Opinions?  
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**RogalDorn: They will meet, fight, each others and alongside each others... What's the point of writing such fics if you don't throw a few canons in? :) Your name came as a shock to me, since Herald was supposed to be Imperial Fists at first, but I figured another Chapter would be much more fun...  
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**Herp derp: Who the fuck's Mary Sue? And of course their technologies would have a few incompatibilities o_O there is a 38 thousand years of innovation, stagnation and regression between them!**

**Obsessed Nuker: Except the Helghast bow to no-one, much less some frozen corpse :D This is so going to end badly ^^ Or not... Who knows? (I don't _)  
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The Overlord dropship hovers for a few seconds, spinning on itself to dissipate the momentum and finally drops low enough to drop me, a bunch of tacticians and engineers, along with four Advanced Shock Troopers, on the highest rooftop of the place before quickly flying away to aid in our deployment. Well, IF we actually get to deploy. The barge has yet to receive the authorization to land.

The roof's been turned into a command center by the imperial; tents and computers are strewn around, telescopes and other observation devices poking out of the mess, here and there, leaving just a circle in the middle of the roof for, I assume, the landing of troop and supply transports. This place has a chaotic feeling, as if they were about to move, which is stupid; you don't move during a siege.

The shock troopers, their brown dusters oddly contrasting with the white of the roof, step forward to form a defensive perimeter around the pad, guns low but at the ready, while the two tacticians, crumbling under the weight of their electronic equipment, stand behind the five Engineers, themselves seeming about to collapse under their disassembled sentry guns.

There are about eight Imperial soldiers surrounding us, all armed with some kinds of bulky assault rifles with laser sights. Their armor seems pretty close to the ISA's, in that they rely on big metal plates for protection.

Helghast prefer advanced polymer and alloys; even more so when you can have the same protection you would get from a titanium sheet using just carbon fiver and scrap metal.

None of the 'Guards' looks threatening, but they sure seem piss scared.

A bunch of huge guys, armored and armed to the teeth, with glowing red eyes and full-face helmets tend to do that to everyone. Except Helghast, that is.

I fold my arms behind my back, just over where my StA18 is hidden, and nod to my escort, who stands at attention.

"Colonel Sand, I presume!"

I glance to my right. A man, in his mid-fifties, just left a large tent and is now approaching us without a hint of fear in his eyes. He should be afraid, any reasonable man would be.

His uniform, however, is impressive; filled with battle ribbons and medals, yet he, himself, is small, chubby and bald. Not really the grizzled veteran I was expecting. I don't like him.

"Indeed. Colonel Warrick?"

He nods and motion for me to follow him in the tent.

"Yes, I believe there is much for us to discuss, shall we?"

His tone is courteous, just like his manners. I don't know why I get that strong urge to shoot him in the face.

"Absolutely! My men need to set up some equipment, defense systems, telemetry and data relays, that sort of things, I hope it is not…"

"Oh no! Not at all, there is a free area on the north-east part of the roof, they may set up there."

Another nod from me and they set to work, half the shock troopers following them while the other half sticks with me.

I have my escort wait for me outside the tent and duck trough after Warrick.

Once I'm inside, it takes me exactly five seconds to hate every spineless Vektans present in the room.

Every single officer in the place has no idea what's going on, but they all put on a show of confidence and control.

A man, in brightly colored uniform, is bent on an holographic map, showing to the four other officers the most likely path the 'orks' might take to reach the CP, which a ten year old could have guessed, while two other slowly nod and one offers a few scenarios for the 'evacuation of all essential personnel'.

These assholes are going to run away and let the population get butchered, essentially.

Not on my watch. I type away at my tactical interface, sending a few orders to the lieutenant.

"Gentlemen, our guest has arrived." Warrick exclaims, too cheerfully.

Looking up from my wrist, I don't spare them a glance and immediately step next to the holo display.

According to the map, the Guards are getting butchered on every front, stuck in trench warfare with those… Animals… If the officers had even a hint of intelligence, they'd re-deploy those tanks guarding the inner-city to the front line, or these air support units they have waiting around to cover their escape.

I check the terrain next; urban environment surrounded by wastelands, some sort of highway goes straight from the hearth of the city and into the wastes, passing trough some industrial complex along the way.

The whole place seems built on a square design; square streets, square city, square buildings… Except that little spot, square in the middle…

Great, I'm making architectural puns now.

The thing is rectangular and ends in a half circle. I'd say it's two or three times the size of most buildings here… A church. A big one at that. Whatever they're worshipping, it's worth opening their wallets, it seems. Unless, of course, the church acts as a government and just taps into everyone's bank account at will.

There are blue, yellow, green and black spots here and there, the blue one being right over the church and the yellow around an area with much smaller habitations, while the black and the green share the trenches, although it looks more like the black chased the green from a chunk of the frontline and decided to just sit there.

"So, Colonel," Warricks begins, "What world are you from?"

"Helghan."

"So you're an… Helghanian?"

What a pitiful attempt at looking educated! I glance at the other officers. They are all looking at me with superior airs… Mundane.

Stop yapping! There's a war going on!

"Helghast." I answer, still ice cold… I hope.

He frowns. Apparently, Helghast isn't refined enough for that fucktard.

"So, you wish to aid us in our combat with the xeno filth?" He continues, still speaking like we were at a fucking cocktail. "How do you propose to do that?"

"Uh… By killing them." I offer, now mimicking his pompous attitude, "You know, the action of actually not running away from one's enemy…"

He narrows his eyes, wondering if it was an insult.

"Killing the orks? With those slug throwers? Colonel, I appreciate your good will, really, but there is really nothing your…" He searches for the right word, "…militia, can do, except aiding us in evacuation."

I scan the room once more. No scars, lots of medals, high ranks…

Obviously, battlefield experience don't count as much as personal wealth in this army.

These guys are just like the ISA, corrupt and self-centered. Sharks… No, 'I' am a shark, evolved, predatory; a perfect killer. They are more like… Leeches.

"Evacuation?" I ponder, pretending to be thinking to myself, "Of course! What is the civilian population of the area?"

"Ci…civilian?" The colonel seems genuinely surprised by my question, "Around the two millions…"

"And how many of them have already been evacuated?"

His eyes lock with mine and we begin a staring contest… Wait.

My visor slide up with a low hum as I take a step forward, looking down at him to emphasis our height difference.

I'm seven feet tall; he's barely five.

Once he notices my eyes, the Colonel visibly pales.

"You are not suggesting you would rather evacuate military personnel before civilians, are you?"

"This operation is a failure, there is no point in…"

The two shock troopers send me a short footage of a walking thank heading for the tent. I have barely enough time to see some red and black as well as an angry scowl.

"No point in what, Colonel!" A powerful, muffled voice booms. It reminds me of a Heavy.

The flaps of the tent part and a mountain of armor plates steps in the tent.

A glance to the colonel tells me he'd rather be somewhere else. He is sweating profusely and keeps glancing at me nervously, his eyes pleading for my support.

Like hell I'm going to help this Vektan scumbag! I just hope I get to shoot one of the maggots in this tent before the armored man is done.

"Astarte, we... We were discussing strategy with this… Mercenary!"

Mercenary? I guess that's an acceptable description.

"Sounded like you were planning to run like a dog…"

Fear is replaced by anger, just one second.

"Brother-Captain Herald! You may be a Space Marine, but I remain a Colonel and you will show me the respect…"

"Sure, if you say so," He turns to me, "I saw your soldiers out there."

"Yes, so?"

"I said it, they're soldiers. More than I can say about many here."

Indeed.

I glance at the man's armor, barely more that a crapload of metal plates wielded together. This must weight ten tons, yet he walks around like it was a swimsuit… Just how strong can that guy be?

I give him an appreciative nod. The colonel is turning an angry red and his staff is seemingly trying to turn invisible. I can hear him asking his communication officer why the Astartes were notified.

"Indeed, it is. It is good to see we are not alone, however."

He nods.

No introduction, no chit-chat. None of us have time for this shit. Instead, he goes right down to business. Might not be the diplomatic way, but screw politics, we're soldiers!

"My chapter is called the Flesh Tearers; we are holding the line to the south. We could dispatch troops to reinforce the rest of the front if someone could hold our position. Are you up for the task, Mercenary?"

It's a test. The Flesh Tearers don't give a damn about the population; they just want to see what the Helghast can do.

We both know my answer, what follows is just meant to let Warrick know his part.

"How long?"

"As long as it will take this fool to evacuate the Hive."

Hive? That's what they call cities here?

"This is a long time…"

"Indeed."

"The Helghast will hold the line."

He nods again and we both leave the tent.

"Know this, Helghast," He begins in a threatening tone, "I do not approve of leaving our position to you, this was the Inquisitor's idea, I am merely following orders. Shall you retreat, let a single ork trough or falter in any way, I will personally tear your flesh from your bones…"

I'm pretty sure he could, but that doesn't scare me. I'm a Helghast. With my visor still retracted, I glare at his optics.

"Helghast do not falter, Captain, we rise from the ashes of our world, time and time again, broken of bodies but never of mind, made stronger every times by the growing fury of our people; we never doubt, never back down and we NEVER bow. Do not forget this."

Despite the frown and scowl of his helmet, I can feel a little less hostility in his attitude. He took his hand off that oversized chainsaw sheathed on his hip, for example.

The Tacticians and Engineers ask me for orders and I tell them to set up our command center here.

As good a place as any and I need my ATACs to have a good command and landing area.

Plus, they'll keep an eye on that Warrick guy.

The Asstard -or whatever his name is glares- at the Overlord when it touches down gracefully, its landing struts scraping on the roof and leaving deep scratches in the friable concrete.

The Overlord is, basically, a _flying_ tank, so I suppose the _walking_ tank next to me wants one for Christmas.

"After you, Captain."

He drags himself in and gives the mounted machine-gun a puzzled look.

Yes, puzzled. You live in a world where everyone wears helmets all the time, you'll get real good at reading body language too.

"Is something the matter?" I ask, climbing next to him.

"Auto-guns? Are these really effective?"

I shrug. "They kill peoples and that's good enough for me.

He emits a low choking sound… Wait.

Was that a laugh?


	3. Setting the Stage

**A/N: Not much to say today, deepening characters, setting up the scene for the first Helghast Ass-kicking and a few political incidents.**

**Herp Derp: Dude, shut up and read, 'kay? :P Seriously, at least wait for the story to start before saying stuff like that :O And Nate hasn't met any canon characters yet, all his interactions were with OCs so far, so I don't see how he's a Mary Sue o_O **

**And of course he seems perfect, guy's telling the story and has a superiority complex xD**

The Imperial shuttles were all landed in front of the HQ, around some sort of fountain.

Looking at them, Nalia couldn't help but envy the guards.

The things were huge, heavily armored and had large guns sticking out of them.

The Overlord had its perks, of course; it was a perfect balance of speed, grace and firepower, but the imperial vehicles seemed to be only one thing: Indestructible.

She was about to put that to the test.

Between her and the ships were a line of vehicles, tanks, mostly, around a dozen soldiers and quite a few crates.

Her cloaking field hummed softly as she stepped out of behind a palm tree.

Movement disturbed the field, so she could either sprint from one point to another while no one was looking, or move slowly and hope no one would notice the shimmering.

Since everyone was too busy with the evacuation to watch their surroundings, she broke into a sprint and slid to a stop at the shadow of an ammo pile, silenced SMG ready to pierce the skull of anyone who'd look her way before the field kicked in.

Nobody did.

She glanced over her cover.

Two tanks and a bunch of grunts stood in her way.

The soldiers were smoking and didn't seem about to go anywhere, while the tanks… Well, one didn't have treads while the other missed its engine block… Or whatever went in that big hole…

She ducked back and settled in.

'No cas', Sand had said. She'd have to wait for the grunts to move on and hope there was no one in the tanks.

Sand… She scoffed at the thought of her former student.

God damn kid was a good shock trooper, that was sure, and he had improved his shooting drastically, but he was still just that; a kid.

Nataniel thought he had been given command of the Battlegroup because he was the best officer available and, to some extent, it was true.

However, there was a small catch: He was the best _expendable_ officer available.

Kid was a problem, he'd always been. Excellent strategist, fiercely loyal, good at every form of unconventional warfare… And the problem was that he knew it. He'd gotten arrogant, careless, and that sudden ascension trough the ranks wasn't doing his inflated ego any good…

She aimed her SMG at a Guardsman heading her way and kept it trailed at his head until he grabbed an ammo box from the pile and walked away.

…Sure, he'd caught that Shadow Marshall, but from the looks of it, the girl was just a rookie left behind by her commanders.

Then, her thoughts switched to Radec.

The man had been her boss for almost a decade. Cold, calculating, loyal and merciless both to the enemy and the recruits. He always followed a strange sense of honor and tried to beat it into his charges.

He always said that a disciplined army could beat any force, no matter how superior. She'd believed him at the time. Now, looking at what had happened to Helghan, she wondered if the Colonel really was that bright.

Sand, like many other recruit, had always seen him like a father and Radec seemed to feel responsible of the young Helghast. He'd personally trained him to become the next master of Radec academy, and seemed to see a lot of himself in the soldier.

She remembered how excited the boy had been when he learned he was transferred to Special Warfare… And how close he'd been to being sent back home because of damages to his retinas.

The petrusite injections that made Elite Shock Troopers and Capture Troopers so strong also made their eyes glow slightly. That was seen as something awesome by most recruits, until some of them started getting bad night vision. In Sand's and a few cases, in had caused temporary or permanent blindness.

Nataniel had recovered completely. He'd been lucky.

Something changed after that, something he did or said had gotten him out of Radec's good graces and he'd been transferred to the Stahl Arms detachment.

Another glance over the crate told her the imperials were finishing their smokes.

'Story time's over' she thought, grinning, 'It's sabotage time now."

000000000

"So?" Herald asks, sounding impatient, "What's your battle plan?"

I glance up from the map.

The Flesh Tearers set up their headquarter right on the frontline, in some abandoned gas station working on plugs.

Yeah, I'm not quite sure I get it either.

Something bangs outside, followed by a mechanical whine, and the Captain sighs.

"Get off the machine, Priest, or I'll tie you up to it to be used as additional armor!"

"But…" A somewhat cavernous voice whines back, "its machine soul, it has not…"

I just tune out the… Uh… Man? Cyborg?Whatever: Priest's whiny, mechanical voice and turn back to the Captain.

"What's his problem with my Exo suit?"

"He did not make it."

I'm about to ask how that's a problem when the suit's auto-repair unit kicks in, earning a startled gasp and weird incantations.

"Can I shoot him?" I ask the Space Marine.

"Not yet." Herald growls, "He's a fool, but his skill with machines almost makes up for it."

I shake my head slowly and return to the tactical display of the Flesh Tearers' barricades.

You see, instead of digging trenches in the dirt outside the city, the Marines simply collapsed a few buildings along their lines and used the wrecks as barricades. Now, I'm mostly trying to find a way to provide support for my boys soon to move on said barricades.

Most buildings here have fewer than three stories, except two of them, towering at a pretty humble six stories, which is far from the gigantic skyscraper my ATAC base is set upon, but, given the area, it makes them suitable for heavy weapon positions and sniper nests.

More accurately, the one designated DT-563 –in Vektan alphabet, of course- would serve as an excellent heavy weapon nest, given its proximity with the frontline and the thickness of the walls, while DT-561, with its large windows and the maze of pipes covering the roof, would be a perfect vantage point for sharpshooters.

I just so happen to have lots of Snipers and Riflemen.

Then, there's that park, square behind DT-563; just a notch between the yellow and black zone –The Flesh Tearers being the black-. It's filled with threes, but a good flamer should solve that. Then, we could land the barge in there and set up shop. We'd be right next to the front line but protected by the fortified building.

Next I need to find a way to use the many tanks and APCs I command.

I'll probably have the Engineers set up ramps behind the blockades to allow the tanks' heavy weapons to wreck some shit.

Good thing is, the ramps don't need to be that sturdy; We only have hover tanks and APCs.

I do, however, need to find a purpose for my two AAPCs, eight hover bikes and three Jeeps… Might as well keep them in reserve, ready to reinforce any position that's endangered. Or lead raids.

The Asstard growls at that. Apparently, I'm doing something wrong.

"You do not have enough ammunition to hold this position like that for so long. It would be a sound plan, if you could use our stockpiles, but your technology is too far from ours; you must rely on your own supply."

I'm not used to that kind of planning, damnit! I need to think like the enemy, he explains, think of what I'd hope the other guy wouldn't do, then do it.

I observe the orks' line.

They are basically hammering away at the city's defenses, prodding for weaknesses and trying to exhaust its defenders. Time is on their side, since they seem to be getting reinforcement from somewhere… In their place, I'd hope the enemy would maintain the status quo; keep my boys out and let them rip his troops to shred one man after the other, since that's all they can do.

I'd mostly be afraid of guerrilla warfare, since my troops are large and dumb.

Eure-Fuckin'-Ka!

"We'll set up machine gun nests here, here, here and here." I suddenly announce to the Astarte, who leans forward, interested.

"That's behind our line."

"Not for long. The orks are prodding us for weakness. We'll give them one. Once your men pull out, we'll let the orks think it's a retreat and chase you. We'll have machine guns, recoil-less rifles, rocket launchers and tanks hammer them all the way, then, once a sizable part of their force is in, we'll drop Jetpack troopers and commandos on their rear, supported by fast attack units, and cut them off their back up.

We'll barricade the streets and fortify the buildings on a… say, five block radius. Then, we call in the ATACs, catch them in a crossfire, maybe mine the area, set explosives in some buildings and bring them down on top of them…"

He nods slowly.

"There might still be Imperial citizens in the area."

He doesn't sound like he gives a fuck.

They're not Helghast. I'm not especially ordered to defend them. I don't care. Well, as long as it doesn't give me some leverage on the local militia leaders, anyway.

I tell him just that.

"You really think he will evacuate a single of those fools? He is probably already in high orbit as we speak…"

"Now that would be hard, given that I have had most air seals removed from his dropships. The ships still work, but I really don't think they're space worthy."

"You did what?" That's the first time he sounds confused. For some reason, having surprised him fills me with pride.

"I also had my man leave a note saying the seals will re-appear once the ships are filled with refugees."

"You do not take 'no' for an answer, do you?"

"You calling me a rapist?"

He makes a choking sound again.

"No, I simply grew accustomed to incompetence and procrastination, seeing someone actually do something –As stupid as it may be- comes as somewhat of a shock to me."

"You don't like the Guards much, do you?"

"They are weak, cowardly and dumb; they only get in the way."

Yeah, that's the impression they gave me.

"You don't like us either, huh?" I add after a second.

"No. From what I gather you are either Xenos, mutants or heretics, but the inquisitor wants me to work with you, so I'll do."

At least he's honest.

"Fair enough," I start, stepping away from the '_cogitator'_ "let's get to work, shall we?"

"Indeed. I will stay with you, to coordinate our efforts," _And keep an eye on me, huh? _"where will you be positioned?"

I point at the frontline.

"My Exo being a fast assault vehicle, I suppose I will join with the Jetpack troopers and commandos. It will require a lot of micro-managing to both hold off the reinforcements and the rear guard…" I point to what seems to be a school, "I will set up here in the meantime and coordinate our deployment. Any questions?"

He checks the display.

"How are you going to fit your Titan in there?"

Titan? What the… Oh! The exo!

"I'm not fitting it 'in' I'm setting up on the roof."

"It can fly?" He sounds doubtful.

"More like jump…"

We stare at the display for a few more seconds and, since none of us has anything else to say, we leave the tent.

Some guy in red robes and with tubes sticking out of his face is waving a… actually, what's that thing? Oil lamp? Anyway, he's waving his gizmo at the Exo, seemingly afraid the machine will try and eat his tube filled face.

I walk past him and jump aboard the reverse-engineered machine, quickly linking my helmet to the system. Graphics and stats in fill my visor. It's the same thing as the Exo's HUD displays, but it's in Helghan.

Trough the open door, I motion Herald to climb on top of the walker, which he does in a graceful jump.

'**Heavy Cargo Detected.' **The interface flashes, before adding, **'Compensating.'**

No clue what that means, but hey! It didn't collapse, did it?

The thing starts with a satisfying hum-beep.

I transmit the battle plan on the public channel as I head for my own position

Overhead, the Overlords bring Pyro troopers to the landing site; one of them flying so close to my walker Herald could have touched it.

I hear a weird sound from the top and switch one of the cameras to check it out.

The Space Marine has deployed a bipod from under his belt-fed cannon and is now using it as a mounted gun, his armored feet hanging on either sides of the cockpit.

Speaking of which, I remind the engineers that I want Sentry Guns set up around and on the barge before they do anything else.

I get a call from the dog masters. They're pissed that I forgot about them.

I didn't forget them, I just did not know we had attack dogs.

"Patrol around the barge, just in case."

"Understood, command, holding position at HQ."

I check the map again.

Orks sure seem tougher than Vektans…

That weird thing in my chest and that feeling of being prodded by a dozen icicles; it seems dangerously close to fear, doesn't it?


	4. We Come In Peace, Wait, No, We Don't

**A/N: Let's get this clear, since some of you guys are hell-bent on proving how inferior Helghast are. **

**The ISA was superior on every aspect too, "One week, two, tops, in and out. Expected low to moderate resistance, enemy morale at an all time low. They're technology is no match for our military might." They said. Out of the 16 cruisers sent to Helghan, none came back and there were only four survivors.**

**A gun's a gun, a bullet's a bullet. Ask any Marine what the difference between an AK47 and M16 is, in the facts, and they'll most probably say "The sound" yet there's half a century of innovation between both.**

**So what if the bullet is titanium tipped with uranium core and lead coating? You'll go trough the target like it's made of butter and, in the case of most Xenos, won't cause sufficient damages to put it out of action. (BTW, that's bs, man, I checked the 'specs'; a Glock-18 is just as good as a Scipio, so a StA18 should be just as effective.)**

**So, yes, I have taken the different ammo types into account, and reached the conclusion that it didn't change a thing, except the Higs will have a hard time kicking trough most armors…**

**Anon: Well, the Legacy is pretty much a bigger version of Stahl's cruiser. As for close combat, the Higs seem pretty well equipped for that with their shotgun attachments, flame throwers and shotgun revolvers... But yeah, close combat with an ork isn't a pleasent experience, no matter your toys xD  
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As I am strapped inside an Exoskeleton, on the roof of a school , piggy-bagging a genetically engineered psychopath, I suddenly wonder just where we are.

A bit late for that, but hey, I had other things on my mind.

We speak the same language as the locals, although they added some Latin and Scandinavian words here and there, we're biologically human sub-species, which indicates common ancestors.

However, they call their home world 'Terra', which, I suppose, is derived from 'Terre', the Earth.

So these guys could be UCN, but then, I don't remember hearing about such cultural differences and JADE never seemed that weird to me.

The Hyper-crap probably did something, like in those Sci-fi movies, switch dimension or stuff…

A Jetpack trooper drops in front of me and salutes.

Must be weird to salute an Exo.

"Sir! My men are ready to jump in the fray on your signal and the Commando Leader reports that he is in position as well."

"Excellent," I speak over the comm. Net, "Have two of your men run a recon over the area, make sure everything is in place. Once they report in, we'll move."

He nods; "Copy that, Colonel Sand." Before hitting the throttle on his 'handle bar'.

The officer leaves in an explosion of dust, hopping from one roof to another.

Over me, still clutching his behemoth of a gun, Herald asks me if I am not being a little over-cautious.

"It's my first operation," I explain, "I would rather it does not end in a failure."

Is it so weird that I don't want to fuck up?

I wiggle the joysticks a bit, to get a better feel of the Exo's commands. The machine makes a small dance in response.

It's a little slow when turning, but it's just as armored as a tank and goes even faster, so I can deal with sloppy turns.

I get no reaction from the big guy on my roof. I had expected him to bitch about the bumpy ride or something, but Asstards are obviously not the bitchy type.

After a few minutes of watching the orks' troop movements on my tactical display, I get a call from Air Division saying that everything is in place.

"Well then," I answer on the public channel, dropping the 'Colonel Attitude' for just one second, "Be ready to wreck some shit, Helghast!"

I punch the ceiling twice.

"We're ready, tell your boys to fall back!"

"Understood." Is the only answer I get.

0000000000000

**Eight Years Earlier**

**Radec Academy**

**Helghan**

_Colonel Mael Radec's office, like the man, was imposing, but in a somewhat subtle manner._

_He did not have any trivial items laid around for show, as most other commanders; instead, he kept it to the strict minimal… Or at least, his version of it._

_A small desk, large enough to receive his two terminals, while leaving some space to comfortably read and write, two Helghast flags, a scale model of Pyhrrus, sitting in a far corner and two book shelves, within arm reach of his seat, were all the school master had allowed for himself… Beside the many trophies he'd taken from ISA._

"_How many of them are adequate, Sergeant Kovachin?" Asked Radec from behind his desk._

_Standing in front of it, the instructor sighed._

"_Out of the whole batch, I'd say four hundred can be turned into acceptable cannon fodders, one hundred could specialize and six of them would be suitable for Special Operations duty."_

_The Colonel twitched._

"_Only six?"_

_Nalia smiled smugly under her mask._

"_You established the standards, sir…"_

"_Indeed. Any… Failures?" _

_Kovachin sighed before nodding._

"_Yes, a few. One in particular I believe you should know about…"_

_The Colonel leaned forward a bit. _

_Why would he have any interest in a failure?_

"_Remember the twins, Nance and Nataniel Sand, I think their names were?"_

_Radec simply nodded; he knew the files of every last one of his students. An instructor had beaten the boy, once, for having passed out after the first day of drill. The sister had strangled the Helghast with her shoe-lace. _

_The trainee had to be knocked out by another instructor, who, himself, earned four broken fingers from the brother._

_The boy was smart and tough, while the girl was fast and vicious. Together, they would make an excellent capture team._

"_The girl is simply too free minded, we'll have to send her back. Once she's gone, the boy will fall in line."_

_The Colonel nodded slowly. "Pity, she would have made an excellent Trooper. How about the boy? Is he any good?"_

"_Well, no." She stated flatly, "But he has that attitude, that capacity of adaptation that reminds me of… Well…_._" She hesitated and the Colonel understood who she meant._

"_Metrac." He mused, unsure if it was a good thing or not._

_Lieutenant Metrac was burning trough the ranks… Litterally. Anyone who dared comment on his human appearance or accuse him of treason because of his unusual beliefs would end up the victim of a misfiring at the range or simply disappear. The man was ruthless, brilliant and quite a bit crazy._

_He and Radec hated each others, yet there was some kind of respect between them. Radec viewed war as a contest of force, nothing personal and, although he would not let such petty considerations stand between him and success, he much preferred achieving victory trough a 'fair' fight, advanced tactics and clever strategy, while Metrac quite simply used every dirty trick in the book to get an edge; they knew they were both two sides of a same coin and accepted that fact… It didn't keep them from refusing to be in the same room as each other, though._

"_No, sir, I was going to say you…" Kovachin interrupted his train of thoughts._

"_Me?" That thought seemed to amuse him greatly. "Well, keep me informed, Sergeant." He stood and saluted her. "Dismiss."_

_She saluted back. "Sir!"_

_Once she was gone, Radec requested that all files on the Sand family be sent to his office. Quite an interesting pair, those twins; he wondered where they grew up._

_0000000000000_

"Omega is in, spring the trap, command!"

I push the joysticks as hard as I can and the Exo explodes from its position.

It stomps on the roof so hard I'm afraid we'll go trough it… But after a couple of painfully loud strides, we reach the edge and I hit the jump-jets.

Good thing I did _before _ looking, otherwise I would have frozen and we'd have planted face-first.

They're _everywhere_! A moving sea of green and black, yelling and hitting at each others in frenzy.

Out in the corner of my eyes, I can see the buggies and Jet Bikes plow trough their lines.

I should have kept a few tanks, all we have is fast attack vehicles for a melee combat with those beasts.

We're so going to die.

"FOR THE EMPEROR!" The Astarte booms before opening fire in mid-air. Once they connect, his bullets tear off limbs and blow over-sized chunks of flesh.

What the fuck is that gun! Machine rocket launcher!

We land straight on one of the green freaks and I get a close up view of its face.

It had its lower jaw replaced by a roughly cut piece of scrap metal and one of its eyes is yellowish and seems about to burst. Overall, some mutated ape freak.

"It's not that I want to kill you," I explain while lining my Machine-gun with its face, "But you're just too ugly to let live." I squeeze the trigger and unleash a burst of 50mm Mk 211 multipurpose rounds.

The thing's head bursts like a rotten tomato being hit by a baseball bat.

Yeah, I did lots of weird stuff during my free time on Helghan.

I spin the walker around and fire another volley in the fray. Once again, it's a good thing that I acted without thinking, because the sight of the whole ork army staring at me with hatred would have made me shit my pants. I feel a wave of heat and cold sweats as I take in the hundreds of hateful faces.

Then, my bullets hit.

No matter who you are, where you're from and what language you speak, the boom of a fifty cal cannon always mean the same thing: 'You're fucked.'

Herald quickly joins me and body parts start flying around. The walker gets hit by a few stray rounds, but none of them penetrates.

Orks seem to be poor shots

A second later, four-eyed creatures climb down the walls of every nearby buildings and I need to remind myself they are my commandos. Doesn't keep my inner child from wanting his mommy though.

Still that's nothing compared to the scare I get when a Jetpack trooper hovers in front of me, peppering the orks with his .30 cal machine gun.

Fucking giant fire spitting mosquito.

I fire a missile at what could be either a buggy or a spare parts wagon… I'm not sure and its destruction doesn't help me figure it out either, since once the smoke clears, all there is left is a steering wheel and a scorch on the concrete.

Oh well.

Something hits my walker in the back pretty hard. Herald tells me to keep going; he's got my back.

A minute later, I hear the roar of his machine gun.

A glance at my tactical display tells me we've got the entanglement locked down real tight; with five commando squads, twenty jetpack troopers, four buggies and fourteen jet bikes, the whole squeezed between the school, the electric gas station and the –now destroyed- barricade.

"Dig in!" I yell on my radio, "Hold you positions! Victory or death!"

The answer is immediate:

"FOR THE GLORY OF HELGHAN!"

A few D-charges suffice to create trenches and craters deep enough for the bikes and buggies to take cover with just their machine guns poking out.

Once the trenches are done, the commandos set up heavy weapon positions, mostly W.A.S.P.s and LMGs, while Jetpack troopers either retreat to the roof or dive in the trenches, adding their highly accurate .30 guns to our defences.

Me, well, I'm riding a twelve foot tall weapon platform. I jump in the deepest trench I can find, but it's only four feet deep; anything above the Exo's knee gets hit by random lucky shots here and there, but at least I get a clear view of the enemy troop movements.

Speaking of which…

"Herald!" I holler while punching the shit out of my ceiling.

"What!"

The Space Marine is still covering my rear, which, in that case, means he's facing the enemy reinforcements.

From his voice, the situation is not that much better behind me.

"What the fuck is _that!"_

His answer takes a second to come, but when it does, I really regret asking.

"A big walking machine!"

And with that, he goes back to shooting.

Thanks, genius.

The walker is at least two stories high and packs enough fire-power to hurt a MAWLR.

Good news it that it's not heading for us, but for the main force.

The bad news is that I really don't know what we have that could take it down.

"I want all teams armed for AT warfare to pound that walker!" I holler in my radio. "ATACs, thin out the ground troopers."

"Wilco, air support incoming!"

I pound the roof again.

"HERALD!"

"What is it, now!"

"How did you hold that thing back?"

"What?"

"On the barricade!"

"We did not! The orks must have kept it in reserve!"

"USELESS WANKER!"

I fire my remaining missile at the back of the walker's 'head', to no effect.

Behind me, the W.A.S.P.s fire in artillery mode… And scorch the paint.

The thing fires in response. I don't se what it hits, but the fireball is impressive.

"He's ripping us apart!" I hear an officer yell, "We need bigger guns!"

Where am I supposed to get bigger guns! I don't shit arc cannons!

Then, I remember a small, insignificant detail.

The Legacy.

"Fire mission, fire mission, this is Task Force Command, requesting Arc strike on position. Target…" I quickly mark the walker on my radar, "…target is marked 'BIG MOFO' on your screen; Get' em, boys! Over!"

"Task Force Command, this is legacy fire mission, we see BIG MOFO, arc strike imminent, get clear of the killbox, over."

"Roger that." I switch to public channel, "Everyone, get in the APCs! Tank crews, switch off electronics, ATACs, RTB, now! We're getting an arc strike!"

I receive a dozen confirmation messages and power down my Exo.

'BIG MOFO' fires again, this time bringing down a whole building.

It's the last thing it does, since right after that, a pillar of blue light engulfs it and everything around, including a part of the school and an ATAC that was too slow. Lightnings dance across the streets and buildings, one of them setting fire to the plug station.

Even trough my mask I can smell the ion and burnt meat in the air.

After that, all we have to do is clean up the mess.


	5. Politics

**A/N: Soo… First attempt at introducing a canon character I know nothing about. Woo!**

**Undead3: Yeah, the Higs are know to scavenge gear from the field any opportunity they get, so nipping a few bolters and lasguns won't be that much of a problem to them.**

**Damaddok: Like I said in my PM, I wasn't aiming at you, your claims made perfect sense ^^**

**0000000000000**

The sky on this planet is purple. Beats me why and beats me even more how I could miss it until now.

Maybe my mask's optics kept me from noticing, or maybe it's the fact that I didn't lay down on my back to stare at the clouds for hours.

The boys sent me to bed. Can you imagine that? I was digging a trench with the others when they all agreed I should rest instead.

Apparently, if I tire myself out digging a trench I won't be as clear minded as I should when the time to dig graves comes, and if I make a mistake during combat, they'll pay the bill, so they sent a heavy to suggest I stay at my Exo and keep an ear out for any transmission from RECON.

I didn't take the hint right away and Kovachin had to clarify.

No one clarifies like a former Drill Instructor.

After that I could either order them to fuck off or accept their suggestion and one of the rules of being a newbie officer is that you're nobody's boss, you're just the coordinator; the boys will decide when you're boss. Until then, well, give them a battle plan, rules of engagement and don't give orders that won't be followed.

And that's why I'm lying down on top of my Exo, where Herald's armor left several scratches and dents.

Hey! That cloud looks just like a StA52! Funny; it's the third I spot…

… I need a life.

Hmm… Speaking of guns…

I jump down from my resting spot and enter the Exo, immediately turning on the long range communications.

"Legacy, this is Task Force Command, Legacy, this is Task Force Command, over."

"Legacy here, go ahead Command." Funny how every female radio operators of the Navy sound like sex phone actors… Not that I'd actually know how one sounds… Nevermind.

"I'd like a SitRep on the corpses I sent you…"

"Hang on, Command, patching the Engineering corp trough."

I hang on… For five minutes.

Herald comes back in the meantime and reports that his Chapter has lost two men, but they only found one corpse.

"You'll make the orks pay for this offence, am I right?"

He growls and nod.

"They will suffer a thousand hell for this…"

Sweet… I think I just crapped my pants.

He then inspects our positions.

The ATACs, Sentry Bots and turrets are keeping orks skirmishers in their holes while the boys set up a By The Book Delta 37 defense pattern:

Three trenches dug with a fiver meter space between them filled barbed wires and mines, just prevent the enemy from simply jumping into the next trench.

On the sides, there's a twenty meter breathing space between our lines and the guards', to avoid possible conflicts and form a 'false weakness'… Both area are actually heavily mined, so much I actually hope the orks will try to go trough it.

Then, given the fact we're not an all infantry force, we brought a few modifications, like the middle trench, normally used for heavy weapon positions… We made it a lot deeper and added slopes every ten meters; this way, we can have tanks and buggies roll trough safely while still taking a shot every so often.

Of course, 'Every so often' is not exactly the best fire support there is, so, in addition to the machine gun nests set up along the first line, we dug five holes between the third and the second where the hover tanks can take cover while still having their turrets sticking out.

We actually made sure these holes were not directly behind the slopes.

Friendly fire isn't.

Finally, the third trench is the most well-built one, with a fast-action concrete floor poured sloppily at the bottom, bunkers made of the same material but with scrap metal all over them, a field cantina, ammo dump, motor pool and two mortar positions.

His visor slowly drifts to me.

"You are no Mercenaries." He spits, anger dripping from his voice.

I switch off the comm. System and jump on the ground.

"We are the Helghast Empire, Sons and daughters of Helghan and defenders of the Helghast dream."

His oversized chainsaw leaves its sheath.

"Heresy…" He whispers, "Blackest heresy…"

I draw my Arc Rifle.

"We are on the same side, Captain, stand down!"

I try to sound diplomatic, but it comes out as more of a threat.

"Purge the heretic…" He whispers, completely lost in his own world, "Cleanse their impurity…" the sword roars and its chain starts spinning.

"Herald," I growl, taking aim "Do not toy with me, I am "

"It would be wise not to aggress a man under Inquisitorial protection, "A refined yet authoritarian voice warns him, "Even for an Adeptus Astarte."

We both turn to look at a sharply dressed man wearing a long-coat and…WHAT THE SHIT!

Thank god I'm wearing a mask, otherwise the whole 'Rock-hard Killer' thing would have gone in smoke pretty much as my jaw fell to the floor. What the bloody hell is that thing on his arm supposed to be? Hydraulic industrial cutter? Better yet, where is his real arm?

"Commissar," Herald hisses, "Stay of this…"

The 'Commissar' takes a step forward.

"Are you questioning the Inquisition, Astarte?"

Wow… That was not even directed at me, but his voice still chills my bones. The Marine merely grunts.

"Soon, the green tide of Orkdom shall be unleashed upon us with a fury never again witnessed; three warbosses have united under Ghazghkull Thraka and are now bound for this world. The Helghast admiral and the Inquisitor are now working the details of this alliance and they left me in charge of the planetary defenses. You will fight together, or you will die together. There are no other alternatives."

I like this guy. He's old and probably half-senile, but still.

I'll have to check with the Admiral, but if he really is in charge of planetary defenses… Well, this little war game just might turn to a real war.

I turn to the Captain and his helmet snaps toward me.

"Let us do our duty," He concedes, "There will be plenty of time to settle our score latter."

"It will be with pleasure." I answer in a suave tone.

The marine walks away and I turn back to the Commissar.

"Dangerous." He warns, shaking his head slightly. I notice his left eye is actually some sort of implant.

"Beg your pardon?"

"Being alive when an Astarte wants you dead." He elaborates.

Oh, that. I guess I'll have to kill the big guy at some point.

"Thank you for…" I begin, but the other stops me with a wave of his mechanical arm.

"Make no mistake, Xeno, this alliance is one of circumstances only. You are no threat to the Imperium, show enough human traits to be classified as Abhumans and do not worship the ruinous powers, so I am willing to give you a chance to prove your alignment in battle.

I do not care about you or your people; I only want Ghazghkull. Shall you stand in my way, I will remove you. Do we understand each others?"

I nod. "Perfectly, Commissar."

He turns and walks away.

Where the hell did he come from anyway? I see him enter what I first took for a concrete block fallen in the street. Some sort of APC, apparently. It could easily have been an ork transport; I need to be more careful.

As the boxy transport rolls away, I return to my exo and re-open the long range communicator.

"Legacy, scratch that last transmission, I want the general on the line; NOW!" I bark.

They left me out of the loop. Figured I was not important enough to be told of the change of situation or just plain forgot about me.

"Sorry, Colonel, but the General is…"

The general what? Is busy picking his nose? Taking a shit? What can be more important than his only current ground operation?

"No you're not sorry!" I hiss at the terminal, "I am the one down here that must guess who's friend and who's foe; I have no intel, no supply and no backup, so do not tell me you are sorry."

"Colonel, I wish I could help, but…"

"Who am I talking to?" I snap.

"Ensign Koprenski, sir."

"Miss Koprenski," I begin, this time keeping my voice perfectly leveled. " do you like your job?"

"Uhm" She begins, sensing a trick in my question, "Yes, of course!"

"I believe it is better than being a communication officer on the front, isn't it?"

"Uh, I wouldn't know, si…"

"You will, I'm arranging your transfer right now. Since there is nothing you can do up there, maybe you could make yourself useful down here!"

"You can't…"

"I can. I will. Go get the General."

"Please stand by."

"Good girl."

I sigh and lean back. Fucking Exo doesn't have seats, so all I can do is lean on the cushions behind me.

Koprenski's right, I can't order her transfer, but she believed me and it's all that matters.

Why didn't the General instruct the communication crew to patch me trough to him in priority? I'm not very important, but the fact is, he doesn't have anything better to do!

Does he?

Now that I think about it, it's a whole planet, maybe they sent troops elsewhere… If so, I'm so screwed!

"Sand!" the general 's voice makes me jump, "What the hell do you think you're doing? Threatening my communication officer! You better have a good explanation for this!"

Shit…

"I do, sir. I would like to know why no one notified me that negotiations were underway with Imperial authorities, why we did not receive any warning on inbound ork reinforcement…" How I manage to keep my voice calm is beyond me, but it works; the general hesitates before answering.

"You do not have to know, we would have told you in due time…"

Due time? DUE TIME? When the bloody heck is that you brainless wanker? Two minutes before we get hit by the bulk of their force? Two minutes after I decide not to ally with the guard and kill everyone?

"Sir, with all due respect, you're not down here, the situation is chaotic at best, I have limited supplies, I lost two of my APCs, fifty men and one ATAC to an enemy I don't know anything about. Our allies are openly hostile and would not hesitate to shoot us in the back, so the least you can fucking do is give me SOME GOD DAMNED INTELS!"

I shouldn't have yelled the last part… Too late to back down now.

"Is Lieutenant Kovachin around?" He hisses, his voice dripping with venom.

The man probably wants to order her to shoot me. Not gonna happen.

"Nalia is not here, General, you will have to delay my execution to a later time. Now, I have the defense of my sector to plan, if we could cut the formalities, I would appreciate to be let in on what is happening, so I can organize better."

After a minute of silence, the General explains that a few Imperial ships, belonging to a group calling itself the Templars, came out of hyperspace over the planet just after my barge entered orbit. There was a short exchange of fire that ended when someone, called The Inquisitor, called for negotiations. It was established that the Imperium would have to run batteries of test on Helghast specimens to assess their 'Purity' and, in exchange, would give navigation and historical datas to us.

The trade is still in progress and our two groups must juggle with battle, politics, religion and trade.

Apparently, my call for airstrike was authorized only to serve as a show of force in front of the Imperials.

The General finishes by saying that the rest is classified and that he'll send me some additional troops.

"You're our most visible representative now, every imperial officials are looking at your group and every officers will scrutinize your tactics for weaknesses. Show them none." He announces before hanging up on me.

Well… That went badly.


	6. Hell's Gates

**A/N: Sorry for the delay, had to get my facts right. Thanks to Obsessed Nuker for helping me with that and giving me one heck of a plot idea.**

**Jerome: All things in due time :) (Yes, I had forgotten about her :S)**

**Anonymous Reader: Finaly someone gets the point of the story :O (Just kidding guys... Please don't shoot me.) Yeah, that's how I see things too :)**

« Leftenant! I want this sit rep, now! » I bark to Kovachin from the holographic display.

I've set up my command post in the barge, separating it from the infirmary by hanging sheets to the cargo hooks on the ceiling. It's a good spot; well protected, near the front and easy to defend, but the constant machine gun fire from the nearby building gets in trough the many loading areas, forcing me to shout over it.

The lieutenant plugs a memory disk in the display and it flickers for a few seconds.

"Fucking great! " I bark at the mess that now appears before me, "Where did that buggy come from? Why do we have three more heavy tanks and lost seven light tanks? Why are half my APCs in sector five? Actually, where did they even come from?" I check another bundle of idle IFF signatures, "And how could we fucking miss eight AAPCs? Where were they during the fight? WHO THE BLOODY HELL DO I HAVE TO SHOOT TO GET GOOD INTELS ON MY OWN FORCES!"

Kinda lost my cold there. Everyone in the small cubicle/command post pauses as I take a deep breath.

"My apologies, Helghast," I begin, lifting my visor to rub my eyes, "You are all performing to the best of your abilities and I couldn't possibly ask any more of you. Let us sort out this mess together." I finish, looking up.

I am met by seven pares of staring red optics. Calmly, I re-assess the situation and distribute tasks.

"Use the extra APCs as ambulances." I tell a Helghast in medic outfit before turning to a Tank commander, "Do you think you could fit the extra heavy Tanks in this… Hmm…Parking? Whatever, structure with ramps."

He looks at the three-dimentional display of said building, twenty meters behind our third trench, and nods while the medic leaves the command center.

"But I must warn you…" I stop him with a motion of my hand.

"It's better to seek forgiveness than ask permission, sergeant, don't give me details, just results. I'll deal with repercussions."

"Affirmative."

"Kovachin, take my Exo and go overlook the process. Omegas' ETA is four hours, I want this line standing and standing hard in two, clear?"

"Crystal, sir!" She barks, pounding her fist on her chest in a perfect salute.

I'm not sure what that was about, but she leaves the CP before I can ask her, so fuck it.

"Now," I start, checking over the display again, "The snipers are in position, the heavy weapons are all set, the tanks are just about ready… We need to steady our supply line. Suggestions?"

The four remaining officers exchange a few words on the different transportations available to us as well as local infrastructures.

"We could use junk from the stores to produce equipment." One of them ponders, rubbing his neck.

"With what?" Another one, on my left, counters.

"The barge has a mobile ammo press and I'm sure we could use some of those factories to the south…"

"Great," I mutter, "I'll have to call Yarrick!"

They all cringe. The old man is a certified hard-ass and none of us really wants to get on his bad side.

"Don't look like that," I growl, "It's my balls that will get chomped off."

They don't get the humor. Neither do I.

"Wait," I muse, "I'm the commander after all… Send a runner to tell him we're requisitioning one of the factories to resupply."

They chuckle at that and one of them leaves to find a suitable victim… I mean, volunteer.

"So, did command say anything about the stuff we sent them?" I ask the communication officer.

He nods once.

"Self-propelled ammunition, laser weaponry, nervous interface, hardened ceramic armor, genetic manipulation implants…" He stops as the medical officer comes back.

That's some nifty toys. Wonder how they got them.

"Any use to us?" I add while checking the Imperial lines.

"They sent a few prototypes laser attachment for the LMGs and Heavies, they are being installed now."

"Powerful?"

"We'll see soon enough."

I shrug at that.

"Well, keep me informed of any report coming in."

"Will do, colonel."

My survey of the Imperial line reveals that sector A-4, on the other side of the city, is the most vulnerable and will probably be the first to fall, so I dispatch a few sappers to discreetly plant high-explosives behind friendly lines, as contingency.

Helghast war doctrine; let them think they've won and lower their guard, then rise from the ashes and slaughter them to the last man. You might take a few hits, but more often than not, you will destroy them, utterly and completely.

But then, 'more often than not' means there is still a big chance you'll get your arse handed to you.

I finish the last preparations and hail Kovachin over the comm., ordering her to prepare the jet bikes for a prolonged sortie.

I'm not going to wait for the orks to ram into us like raging bulls, I want to be at least two moves ahead, so I'm sending my fast attack units in the wasteland to perform raids on the orks' supply and reinforcements lines. Just hit and run, but hit and run can be damn effective if the units doing it have mounted machine grenade launchers.

Then, once it's done, I fall back in my seat and massage my eyes.

Another reason I like to keep the visor off, I feel weird when I can't touch my eyes.

"Sir…"

What now?

I look up and see a Lieutenant, mobile force, from his uniform.

"Yeah, what is it, Helghast?"

He clears his throat and stands straighter.

"Colonel, I do not think Lieutenant Kovachin is suited for such a mission, neither are my men."

He's right, Kovachin isn't a MF commander, but one of the main concerns out there will be stealth, so I need her skills in that domain.

"I know this, Lieutenant, thank you."

That's all he should need, but apparently, I didn't make myself clear, as he still stands there, hesitantly.

I stand and look at him in the eyes. He's one inch taller than me, but I'm slightly broader.

He doesn't flinch, doesn't gulp, but stands straighter. This guy's a Helghast and a real one.

"Do you think I'm an idiot soldier?" I ask, casually.

"No, sir!"

"Seriously, I know I am. I'm not especially smart, I'm brutal and I have no vision, but right now, I'm all you have. I'm sure you could run this operation very well; you are much more experienced.

But I have been trained for this by Radec, I was formed in tactical planning by the master himself, so don't worry, I know what I am doing and I know when to delegate. Kovachin knows it too and I'm sure she will give you operational command the second things heat up, now get out of my face."

"Yes, sir!" He slams his fist in his chest and walk away.

I turn back to the rest of the command crew.

"You guys take it from here, I'll be leading thing from the front. Anything comes up, you send in to my TACINT, clear?"

They all salute and nod.

As I walk out, I check my VC-5 arc Rifle, pumping some juice from the atmosphere and making the canon crackle with a few presses of the trigger.

It's in perfect condition and still has the Visari Corporation logo on the side.

Quite frankly, I'd rater a StA-14, but hey, a lighting spewing, six foot tall, obscenity yelling red eyed, teleporting officer _is_ somewhat badass, even though I still haven't figured out how the tactical teleport works, nor the cloaking… Man, I suck.

I walk out in the warm night and take in the view.

First thing is that ominous orange-purpleish glow and thick smoke, giving the whole scene a hellish atmosphere. It looks like Helghan and I'm sure that was the idea of whoever burned all these tires and plastic. Anyone without a gas mask and optic enhancements would choke on the chemical smoke, adding to the disorientation and fear that comes with the complete darkness.

The building right in front of me has been utterly gutted above the second floor, turning that floor into a ceiling with support struts and bits of walls sticking from it. If it ever had any windows, they're gone now, leaving only gaping holes and trough the holes, I can see bright red lights dancing around.

Regulars fortified the building, as indicated by the Helghast writing next to the door.

_Watch out. Mines inside. Follow the pipes or stay the fuck out._

To my right, two streets away, a heavy is shoving Imperial civies away from one of our food and ammo supplies –set in an old restaurant-. One of the Imperials, who was holding a little girl a second ago, tries to punch the genetically enhanced soldier and earns a broken wrist and nose for his efforts.

To the left is the blockade, crawling with gunners and regulars. Some of them are testing different weapon and ammo types on the occasional ork skirmishers, while the rest are just there to ease the pressure on the guys in the trench beyond.

Finally, there is the sky itself, with Sentry Drones buzzing around, their, jetpack troopers hopping from rooftop to rooftop to find a good launching position when the fight starts.

The whole think; smoke, ashes, rough voices barking orders over the constant roar of machine guns, the aerial freak show of metal angels and red eyed insects. This is as close to hell as you can get while having a pulse… Heh, I saw Imperials nearly faint upon entering our area. _They_ were checking their damn pulses.

The Commissar said Orks don't feel fear. I see why; shiny swords, clean armor, defensive behavior except for the Assturds who look like toy soldiers… They don't know fear because the imperials never gave them a reason to.

My boys will teach these animals the meaning of fear; they'll carve it into their skulls, beat it into them with their own limbs.

This is going to be _fun_.


	7. March Trough Hell

When the Orks arrive, I am sitting on an ammo crate, cleaning my StA-18.

I had expected dropships, barges, parachutes, but what I see now in the purple sky –well, what little glimpses I manage to catch trough the smoke- makes me drop the whole firing chamber.

It clatters on the steel box with a very sharp sound, too sharp, considering how many peoples are in the trench.

A look at the others tell me they're all staring in awe at the sky. My brain still hasn't registered what I saw, so I look back up.

Three huge flying –burning- scrapyards with guns poking out of them, -somewhat large potatoes- are barreling down toward the city, straight from outer space. I loose one as it goes trough a cloud, but it reappears immediately, it's hull now a few darker shades of red than its pals.

The Orks are not planning a siege, they're not going to land either; they'll crash their ships in the city.

An "Aw, fuck." Escapes my lips just as the first one touches down.

"You said it." Kovachin's voice whispers back in my headset.

The ground shakes under the impact and I jump in action.

"All assault sections, get in the APCs and prepare for deployment, I want the buggies and two heavy tanks to escort them. Everyone else will wait here and hold position. Move it!"

Fuck damnit, I hate being in charge. I don't know if we should just dig in here or go after the orks and leave our position… So I'm doing both, which is dangerous; means I have to split my already thin forces even thinner.

On the other hand, we're Helghast, we'll make due.

I jump on an APC as it hovers next to me, a few Helghast already riding on its roof. One of them helps me up while holding himself on the rocket launcher.

"You tagging along, sir?" someone asks over the radio.

"Yeah, field HQ's here already and they all know what to do. You guys, on the other hand, are going to need leadership." I quickly explain to the troops over the comm.

"Sir, with all due respect, from what I saw all we'll need is ammunition."

I'm tempted to agree, but I know encouraging over-confidence is a bad idea. Those Orks took us by surprise once already, I'd rather it does not happen again…

I let my legs hang from the side of the APC and rest my VC-5 on my lap.

The potatoes crashed about five klics in the city, that's a thirty minutes ride with watching whatever buildings still stand as only distraction, so that's what I do.

The architecture of this 'hive' is quite interesting and tells a lot about the imperials; Large structures with carvings and trivial embellishments worthy of some old earth castles are falling apart alongside extremely dull and sober office buildings…

A bunch of Imperials decide it'd be fun to throw rocks on our convoy from the sidewalk, interrupting my train of thoughts.

"Gunners, dissuasive fire," I growl in my headset, " two bursts, on my mark" I catch a rock on the beret just as I bark the order: "Mark!"

Bullets literally rain over the two dozens of Imperials, chipping the buildings behind them and raining sparks and debris on the dumbasses.

Never saw an angry mob dissolve so fast, one guy even ducks in what seems to be a drainage pipe.

"All callsign, status report!" I order after half a minute of scanning the area.

My APC is at the middle of the convoy, so I can't see much of what's happening…

"Area secured, all hostiles disengaged." Is, with some variations, the most common answer.

"Copy," I breathe, feeling a strange wave of relief wash over the back of my brain, "Proceed with the mission."

Where was I?

Oh yeah, the dying buildings!

Well, dying isn't the correct word, they are still in very good condition, but it seems like maintenance techniques are very basic, with a 'wield it together with steel sheets' philosophy in mind… Much like Helghan, really, but on my home world, this is caused by not having the knowhow and resources to maintain what the first colons left, I really don't know what the Imperium's excuse is, seeing the size of some buildings and all the resources they waste on statues –I saw six so far, all of the same damn guy in armor-, resources isn't a problem and since they built the damn thing in the first place, according to the report the Legacy sent on them anyway, I really don't see why they got so sloppy with maintenance.

A Commando taps my shoulder and, as I look up, points to a wide, flat building straight ahead, to the left side of the street a hundred meter away.

The roof, standing at about twelve meters, has green splotches moving around it, but I can't make out what they are. I look back at the heavily armored Helghast.

Damn, even I didn't see that one and I'm supposed to be the best shot in this shithole…

"Convoy, halt!"

I look around for a sniper, but there aren't any on my ride.

A glance at one of the escort buggies right in front of me solves that.

"Give me your rifle, Helghast." I ask the Marksman in the passenger seat.

He hesitates just one second before lobbing his gun to me over the six meters between our transports. I narrowly catch it by the bandoleer and quickly look it over.

StA-14 with ACOG scope, not a VC-32, but good enough for spotting purposes.

Alright, let's see here… The x2 zoom allows me to catch my second real good glimpse at an Ork…

Bipedal frog/bear hybrids… No matter what their ancestors were, they've set up quite a few guns on top of that building and that's a problem.

"Missile launchers, armors, take out that target." I order after marking the building's coordinates on my command interface.

They confirm the order and turn their turrets in the same motion while the gunners exchange targeting specs.

"Firing solutions calculated!"

"Fire!"

The missiles' navigation systems allow them to avoid any obstacle along the way, so I can see a few dozens propellant trail slam into the building a split second before the tank shells –having torn trough every single thing in the street that had the bad luck of standing above five feet- finish bringing it down in an explosion of dust and smoke.

"Nice shooting, gunners," I congratulate them while tossing the StA-14 back to its owner, "Troopers, dismount and escort the convoy, things are about to get rough!"

While saying that, I drop off my APC and bring up my Arc rifle. A glance at my tactical display tells me we're still half a klick south of our target.

"Convoy, move out!"

Under my signal, the thirty or so vehicles get moving again.


	8. Helghan's Childrens

**A\N I'm back! Wether you like it or not! And now I played Killzone 3 ^^ Which is more than most reviewers can say (Glare of death) I doubt a Baneblade could stand up to a MAWLR, I mean, did you see the thing? Of course its cannon would be a threat, but it wouldn't have time to fire more than once. I think it's closer to a KIT-AN1...**

**Also, from gameplay footages, Wikis and actual researches, I discovered Hig bodyarmor and Flak armor are both pretty much the same concept, with the Flack being Carbon\Kevlar\metal polymer and the Hig armor being carbon nanotubes and Kevlar.**

From where I stand, on the right side on the convoy, I can't really see the collapsed building to its left as we pass it by, but I do notice all the dust and smoke still hanging in the air has spread over a wide area, two blocks, at least.

Glowing red dots hover all around me in the white mass, carefully scanning their surroundings when a shadow runs past me and between two APCs, scaring the living shit out of at least ten of my guys, me included.

"Movement north-west." A calm voice reports in my headset, quickly followed by another,

"Movement east."

"Everyone," I whisper, throwing my Arc rifle on my shoulder, "switch to IR."

I get confirmations from every squad leader and switch to my own infra-red vision.

The world is now a mess of blue, red, orange and purple.

"All units, report." We're passing the 'glowing' rubbles now and headed under a 'skyway' which is really just some kind of highway.

"This is Alpha, no sign of enemy activity." Comes a first answer.

"Beta here, signs of civilian presence, area was not properly evacuated yet, recommend…"

"Not our problem." I reply, more harshly than necessary.

"Yes, sir."

"Gamma here, getting weird readings straight ahead, from the highway, recommend shelling the thing, just in case."

Good idea, as far as I'm concerned. I mark two large support pillars under the thing and send the targeting data to the tanks.

"Fire when ready."

The tanks aim at the same pillar and open up with a split second delay between each other, firing their 140mm canon first, then bringing in their coaxial .50 machine guns.

On the IR, this is quite a light show with tracer rounds leaving bright orange trails and shells leaving the same, but ten times bigger. It looks like the tanks are shooting brightly colored ribbons at the pillar, impression that is only increased by the slight drifting movement of the 'ribbons' in the wind.

After about five seconds, they switch to the other target and the light show starts anew.

We are still advancing and if that skyway isn't down in ten second, I'll have to stop the convoy, or risk having that thing fall on us, and I really don't think stopping in enemy territory is a good idea.

"Tank crews, bring this thing down!" I bark, only getting the deafening 'Boom' of the smoothbore guns for answer.

Once that sound is gone, it is replace by an avalanche of concrete and steel crashing on more concrete and steel.

This kicks even more dust, but at this point, it can only advantage us.

I hear a few muffled exclamations from the guys up front, but that doesn't surprise me, they were damn near under the thing when it fell.

A second later, I get a short video from the pointman showing the street now blocked by a wall of rubbles from the skyway.

Yeah, hadn't thought of that.

"Everyone get back in your rides, we'll need a lift to get trough the rubbles."

Am I glad I only brought hover tanks and APCs… Wait…

"Buggies, you'll have to go around, pedal to the metal and stop for nothing, clear?"

"Yes, colonel." With that short confirmation, the fast attack vehicles speed away into a smaller street, running over some idiot -who probably thought he could catch a ride by just standing in their way, waving at them- in the process.

This time, I don't jump on a random APC but instead take a seat on one of the Heavy tanks' turret, right next to the gunner.

"Decided to ride in style, sir?" The trooper asks, leaning on his LMG.

I nod, "I somehow feel safer with five inches of high-tec polymer and the biggest gun available on my side, can't explain it."

"I'm sure it has a clinical name…"

"Sanity?"

My Hover Tank is the first to go trough and I need to hold onto the still hot canon as it begins climbing at an angle of roughly eighty degrees.

"Feeling alright, sir?" The gunner asks, safely strapped in his turret.

"Fuck you."

Then, we reach the top and I can finally rel… Fuck.

You know what they say, about all that goes up goes back down eventually? So fucking true.

I almost slip when the tank begins its descent, but manage to grab onto the cargo nettings at the back of the turret.

I dangle from the thing for about five seconds, fingers slipping and feet frantically searching for something to rest on.

I'm about to actually drop when the tank gets back in a roughly horizontal position.

Close call, that would have been a twelve meters fall.

"Fuck," The gunner mutters as he lets go of my combat harness, "I thought you were going for a dive, sir."

I laugh, my whole body shaking.

"Me too."

I scan the street beyond; Twenty buildings on each side of the road, then it's that huge building I saw on the imperial tactical display, the cathedral, straight dead ahead.

Orks crashed their ships into it, so now only the front part is still standing, the rest is a burning mess of scrap metal and stone.

A trooper filled APC lands behind my tank, followed by the second tank and two more APCs. The rest of the convoy takes position on the rubbles.

"Alright…" I hesitate, the cathedral –what's left of it- towers over every other buildings here, and by towers, I mean its almost five times bigger that anything else… Then again, none of those buildings are above two stories, as if whoever designed this city wanted us to see the church from miles.

"Sir," I hear a soft voice begin from inside the tank, "IR indicates this big structure ahead is crawling with uglies, and we've got Astartes surrounding them… They're doing badly…"

I check trough the hatch and the tank commander looks up at me.

Never seen a regular so skinny… Well, I used to be in the regular army and they don't take women, so I guess I've become a bit of a sexist…

Kovachin would kick my ass for that.

"Sir?"

"Nothing, trooper, can you establish a communication with their commander?"

"Got the necessary hardware, sir," She confirms, bringing out some sort of old fashioned radio, "Just not sure how to use it…"

I pick the thing up and switch it to a wide frequency.

"This is Colonel Nataniel Sand to Space Marine Commander in sector D-6, over."

While I wait for an answer, I dispatch two sniper teams on nearby roofs and order six APCs –along with the Buggies- to take flanking positions around the building.

Just as the orders are given, a rough voice starts yelling at me.

"Guardsman, I don't care why you left your assigned area, you are to help us reclaim this cathedral and purge the Ork taint, Ave Imperator!"

The commander and I exchange a short glance and I click the vox's on button.

"Roger that last transmission."

One click on my tactical display and the rest of the convoy gets moving.

Approximately ninety-six seconds before we come in contact with the enemy. Enough time for some pep talk. First things first, though, now that we're out of the dust cloud, I can switch off my Infrared system and slide off my visor.

"Gentlemen," I speak on the convoy's channel, "I'm not Visari, nor Radec, I am a grunt, like all of you, I won't ask you anything I cannot do, I only ask that you do your best and, in exchange, I will do mine to make sure you come home alive and covered with medals.

This battle, it might not seem like ours, but it is, we are isolated from Helghan, stuck in this hellhole and fighting for our very existence… Just like we always did. We fight for the same cause as we used to; survival at the hands of an enemy that shows us no respect, no consideration. The Imperials and the Orks view us with contempt, so we will beat some respect into them, force these bastards to accept a simple truth; you cannot stomp on us, you cannot cast us down, you cannot break our will.

We will never bow before them and they shall never make us.

Helghan is indestructible for it lives within its children and you, my brothers and sisters, are indomitable!"

Just as I finish that sentence, the tank's snub bore canon lines up with the same kind of walkers –That just 'walked' trough a building's concrete wall on the right- we met earlier and required an orbital strike to take down.

Shit, we've already lo…

The bang is deafening and it takes me a second to realize it was the Ork machine that blew up.

Took us a single shell. I bend over the commander's hatch.

"What did you use on that guy?"

She laughs, but not in a friendly way, "New self-propelled rounds Legacy's R&D sent us, developed from Imperial Bolter guns, I think."

Damn.

A squad of Assturds comes out of the same hole and stare at us.

"You are not Imperial Guards." Asks some helmet-less cowboy with a chainsword.

"No," I notice the color on their armor is different from Herald's, it's blue instead of black and red. "You are not of the Flesh Tearer's division?"

That seems to insult them. "We are Ultramarines, Mercenary, so you should show us respect."

"Of course, I shall show you the respect I think is worthy of such noble warriors… Now, enough talk, there is a battle to win and lives to end."

The leader nods slowly, his face set in stone. "Quite right, I am Brother Kadheus, the Inquisitor warned me you would be using unholy equipment and asked that I prevent my brothers from attacking you while you complete your task."

With that and a few motions of his hand, his squad takes position around the convoy.

"Sir, enemy forces are converging on our position from every side!"

"Helghast, defensive positions! Fight for your honor!"

I jump off my tank as the turret spins to track a target I cannot see. However, when it fires trough a building, the resulting explosion is proof enough they were tracking something big.

An APC pulls up next to me and unloads its troops just as a pair of Orks with guns twice my size show up at the other end of the street.

The APC's AA gun makes short work of them, but they are quickly replaced by at least ten more.

Using the tactical display on my wrist, I place the convoy in a circle formation and keep my troop in it, to protect them from incoming fire, just in time, it seems, since right after the last APC drifts into place, a thunderstorm of lead peppers our position.

We're in the middle of the street and there are only two directions which the Orks may come from, both of which are being protected by the tanks. Only problem with the strategy is that I got around fifty troopers and can't bring them in the fight without taking pointless risks.

I check my soldiers' equipment and notice all of them are carrying some form of close combat weapon; LS13 shotguns, shotgun attachments, VC8 shotgun pistols, Flamethrowers and even a few Arc Rifles …

The Orks perform better with mindless rush and swarm tactics, so I guess we should take them out of their comfort zone and bring them into the more… Cerebral world of urban combat.

One tap on the side of my helmet brings my comm. online.

"All units, scatter, seek and destroy."

A Support Trooper to my left uses his rocket launcher to pierce the wall to an office building, allowing a safe exit point for half my infantry, while a few other troopers just use the hole the Ork walker made.

I follow the Support Trooper, disappearing trough the hole just before an APC gets hit by two some kind of anti-armor weapon, turning it into scrap metal. The rest of the convoy disperse quickly, forcing the Orks to do the same and follow them trough the maze of streets and buildings.

I jump a flight of stairs to the building's basement and smile.

Gonna be one heck of a fight.


	9. The One Armed Devil

**A/N: Alright, those who think I should continue writing this fic, sound off please.**

I somehow find myself leading a six members squad composed of a Pyro trooper, two Regulars, an LMG trooper and two Shock Troopers.

The LMG guy is manning one of these huge StA-62 Miniguns while one of the Regular carries some ISA assault rifle with 40mm grenade launcher under the barrel, as for the rest, we're pretty much standard issue with the Shockies packing StA-11 SMGs the pyro some Visari Corp. flamer and the other Regular with a StA-52 LAR.

All in all, not so bad firepower-wise.

I lean next to the door and motion for the rest of the squad to stack up at it.

We're inside some sort of toy shop, from what I can see, and the street beyond the front window is crawling with Orks, which is why we're getting out trough the back door…

"Go."

The StA-52 equipped trooper uses his under slung shotgun to blast away the hinges and I kick the door straight in the middle, throwing the thing across the alley and into the concrete wall beyond. There are battles going on all across the city, so I doubt anyone heard us.

"Breaching, breaching!"

The Shockies go first, squeezing trough at the same time before aiming their guns at either sides of the door.

"Clear!"

I get out next, "Move out, right side."

The two soldiers nod and open the way, moving in perfect synchronicity.

The Regulars come out next, take up position right where the Shockies were and wait for the two other members to be out of the building to plant a spider mine and bring up our rear.

"Hostiles front!"

No clue who said that, but he's right, one of those axe wielding uglies just came into view, ten meters ahead, out of another alley. When it screams something like "WAAAAAGH!" and rushes us, I understand we're compromised.

"You two," I tell the Shock troopers, "Hit the deck, you," I turn to the LMG trooper, "With me, the rest of you, cover our six."

While we get in position, five more hostiles come screaming out of that alley and the first is almost on us.

"Hold your ground, Helghast!" With that, I fry the fucker with my Arc Rifle.

The electricity arc slams into its broad chest and runs all over its body, leaving a path of burnt meat and fabric…

It still crawls forward even after most of its skin is all blackened and bloodied, but only earns a 4.6 x 30 mm high velocity round in the skull from one of the shock troopers as a reward.

Next to me, the LMG trooper opens fire and the Orks imitate him.

Rounds the size of my fist bounce around us as I line up my arc rifle and squeeze the trigger again.

This time, the lightning slams straight into the first Ork's face and arcs to shock the nearest one as well, blinding both beasts with one shot. Then, the Shockies fire both their StA-11 SMGs into the Hostiles' knees. It does not cause much damage, but fifty round later, the principles of erosion kick in and bits of flesh are torn away from the now blinded and stumbling Orks' legs.

The last hostiles standing gets just enough time to fire a couple shots before Minigun fire ends their lives in an explosion of gore.

"All callsigns, sound off."

Everyone reports the area is clear, so I order the group forward while checking my tactical display.

I lost four APCs in the last ten minutes, but the rest have set up hardened positions and are using whatever weapon load out they carry to keep the Orks at bay, the most effectives, oddly, seems to be the ones packing Chimera AA guns.

No impressive performance nor heroic acts, but they're holding their own and that's all I'm asking from them.

The Buggies are doing surprisingly well, all of them carrying an healthy supply of missiles and rocket launchers and using them for hit and run tactics on hardened Ork targets. So far, I only lost one and the crew managed to escape unscathed.

Most infantry is using the same tactic as my team does; luring the Orks in tight alleys and buildings where their size puts them at a disadvantage. From what I understand, four Helghast are more than a match to a single Ork in a direct fight, this statistic changing depending on the equipment involved; for example, a lone Helghast in the lower corner of my map is holding his own against a bunch of Orks using his Sta-5 Arc Cannon. I'm sure we have a medal for that kind of stuff, I'll have to look it up.

Finally, the two tanks are doing just fine, their armor and speed allowing them to shrug off or avoid everything the Orks throw at them while their 140 mm cannons and special ammo ensures nothing shoots them twice.

Still, I wish I had a few MAWLRs... Oh well…

We enter the alley the Orks came out of and end up face to face with… Gremlins?

There's about twelve of them, small green creatures fumbling around, looking for something…

No matter what they are, one of them rushes us, brandishing a dagger, and gets the whole group fried by a combination of Napalm and Petrusite-generated electricity as a result.

Good thing I wear a rebreathing unit, it must reek out there!

We walk trough the corpse littered alley and end up in the street, where seven Orks are playing with an Elite Shock Trooper.

They are standing four meters to our right, keeping the trooper within a circle with another Ork punching the shit out of him.

I motion for the rest of the team to get ready as the Shock trooper gets punched in the guts and throw to the ground.

The Orks laugh as the Trooper's adversary grabs his arm and tear it off below the elbow, leaving only a bloody stump.

"Come on, Oomie! Iz' know dat you can fight betta than dat!"

The Helghast gets back up in a blink and snarls like a cornered animal just before jumping in the Ork's face, kicking, clawing and punching with everything he's got while the creature fumbles around to get him off.

"Fan out, secure the street." I order while jumping out of the darkness.

Securing the street should be easy, seeing as the right side is blocked by a downed Imperial dropship and the left leads to a Space Marines blockade.

They are within range, but it seems they didn't feel like helping my man.

Assholes.

Let's focus on the Orks for now… One of them points his gun in our direction and dies without understanding why when its ammo reserve cooks off in his face.

The next one has Napalm sprayed across its chest and dies screaming in surprise before I could even aim at it.

I expect the Shockies to be the first in the fight, as always, but the Regulars beat them to it, one of them pumping two shotgun shells in an ugly's face, all the while spraying it with 5,56x45mm rounds, as the other blows up another Ork's top half with his 40mm grenade launcher.

Behind me, the LMG guy and Pyro trooper seem to be having a spraying contest and the Shock Troopers are waiting for something, watching their Elite counterpart as he wrestle the giant beast.

If the Ork grabs him, he's finished, but despite his injuries –or maybe because of them- , the Trooper is extremely swift and vicious, climbing around his enemy's huge body like a spider while tearing any bit he can get a hold of, such as eyes, nose... Sword sized knife…

A one handed swing latter, the Ork stops moving around and groans in disbelief.

The crude knife is now poking out of its forehead.

The beast's tiny brain takes a few seconds to understand that fact and finally dies.

To my disbelief, the Elite Shock Trooper jogs up to me and salutes with his remaining hand. The stump on his other arm has already stopped bleeding, thanks to his advanced armor and Helghan physiology.

"Colonel Sand, sir!"

I nod and read his ID on my display.

Lance Corporal Oleg Sevritch.

"Can you fight, Corporal?" I ask, handing him my StA-18 and two clips.

He looks at his missing arm, no emotions showing in his body language, except pain, then grabs the pistol.

"Yes, Colonel."

"Good, you'll be following us to that blockade, then we'll get you a MEDEVAC."

"Sir," He protests, while the team finishes sweeping the area, "I want to stay in the fight, these fucks took my arm and I'm going to make them pay!"

"Permission denied, get patched up first, then you can get payback."

There is a long moment of silence as I stare at his optics, then he looks away; "Yes, sir."

Good, we need soldiers like him.

I switch to the squad comm. And distribute orders "Everyone, form up on the Imperial blockade, Shock troopers up front, Pyro and LMG bring up the rear, the rest stay in the middle."

And we get moving again.


End file.
